


Most Stories End Well, Anyways, So Why Not This One?

by orphan_account



Series: The Hatchback Epic [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:51:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6419104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as: school-induced exhaustion leads to interesting experiences involving old TV shows and Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Stories End Well, Anyways, So Why Not This One?

Stiles dropped his mug of coffee and cursed. He was so tired he was beginning to see double, but he still had two essays to write for English and history, a reading to finish for French, and a buttload of Calculus problems that needed doing. On top of that, they’d been assigned _another_ presentation for the magic course, and he had just registered for two other courses through the Occult Society.

He sat at his desk, laid his head on his arms, and wished he could sleep.

Sitting back up, Stiles pulled the coffee back into the mug with the slightest twitch of magic, and set it on the desk. He figured that he could get the more immediate stuff done in an hour, take a break, than hammer out the rest in time to actually get sleep before school. Mostly, though, he just wanted to cry.

A warm hand rested on his back, rubbing small circles on his shoulder-blade.

“Nooooo,” Stiles moaned, batting at the hand with his own, “not _now_ I have stuff I have to do, and if I don’t get all this done I won’t be able to go to—” Skype chirped, and both of them jumped.

“Who is it?” Stiles knew Derek had that little wrinkle between his eyebrows that he got whenever he was confused.

He blindly reached forward and answered the call, “Beatrix—shit goddamn _why_ are you calling me?”

“Hello to you, too, Stilinski,” the woman blithely replied. “I have news. Oh, good, Hale is there too, I wanted to tell you that the rest of the paperwork went through for the pack.”

“That’s your news?” Stiles felt righteously angry at that.

“No, you fucker, the news is,” she moved away from the camera, shuffling through stuff and cursing occasionally. After a few moments, she returned into view, a stack of books in her arms. “We found willed materials!”

“Willed…materials?”

“You know, those long documents filled with legal jargon that people put in strongboxes for once they finally kick it?” she asked, continuing immediately. “The materials are actually from your parents, Mr. Hale. We’re trying to get them transferred to you.” The books were wrestled down out of sight.

“What type of materials?” Derek asked, absent-mindedly rubbing his hand in circles against Stiles’s neck again. “I don’t remember them ever mentioning anything in the will or otherwise.”

“That’s because they gifted them to the Society before the fire. I doubt they would’ve mentioned it to you, as you weren’t training to become the Alpha. They’re mostly reference books,” she shrugged, “but there are some older materials that I haven’t gotten to look at yet.”

“Reference books?” Stiles shot up in his seat, barely missing slamming his head into Derek’s.

“There’s a—oh a third edition _Compendium of the Supernatural_ , which is _really_ rare because it’s the most comprehensive version,” she read from a paper, “two copies of _Diseases and Ailments of Magic_ , one hand-annotated by someone named Lissar with some really useful tips, uh, three books on the relation between wolves and werewolves, and something called _Fantastic Beasts_ —and the subtitle is scribbled out.”

Stiles groaned, made grabby hands at the screen. “Give meee,” he whined.

“The first shipment should be coming your way within a week,” Bellatrix replied primly. “We have to ensure that they are still in good condition, and able to ship.”

“Y’re in fuckin San Fran, just drive them over,” Stiles grumbled, slumping forward once again.

“That’s more news for you, Stilinski,” she said, “that I’m in Virginia now. Director Hauck wants me to take over the training of the society’s librarians. In the words of a film-famous archeologist, ‘I…am a librarian.’”

He blinked owlishly at her. “Y’re also a fucking weirdo.”

“Don’t forget your paper due on Monday!” she sang with a devilish smile before clicking out of the call.

Stiles let his head rest on his crossed arms. He was vaguely aware of Derek moving away, and the sound of bedsprings that could only mean the other had settled on his bed.

Derek was humming as Stiles motivated himself to check his email (a new one from Bellatrix with the subject _if i see you doing this you will not pass my course_ ) and finish up what little work he had left on his history paper. The Holocaust, a subject which depressed his feelings even more.

“Derek,” he said, “Derek please stop humming music from Twin Peaks. I am trying to work.”

A page turned. “You—you do realize it is Friday?”

He groaned, and his head dropped with a rather painful crack onto the desk. Too many three hour nights.

“Hey, hey,” Derek was up and beside him in one swift movement.

“It’s just—” Stiles rolled his head to meet the other man’s dark, worried eyes, “it’s been a long fucking week.”

Derek got something like a self-righteous smirk on his face, and pulled a pack of DVDs out from under his jacket. Where they were hiding, Stiles never wanted to know.

“Your dad doesn’t get back until 3 AM,” he said, looking way too smug and excited with himself. “And it will take us exactly that long to finish the last few episodes and watch the movie.”

Stiles looked at him, squinted, mock suspicion and disbelief on his face, “You calculated that.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“And people call _me_ a nerd,” he muttered, powering down his computer and grabbing his coffee. Derek led him down the stairs and popped the first DVD into the player, jiggling it at just the right angle so it will close.

Throwing himself onto the couch, Stiles grabbed the throw from his dad’s armchair and burritoed himself. “So, uh, fairies,” he said.

“They’re in the woods, they aren’t hurting anyone,” Derek replied.

“I know _that_ ,” Stiles said, digging around to make himself more comfortable, “I want to talk to them. They’re better at ambient magic than humans are.”

Derek rolled his eyes, turned on the TV. “They’re also better at abductions than humans are.”

“Then send a wolfy chaperone with me,” Stiles grumbled, reluctantly sharing his blanket with the other man when he sat down. “It’s not like I can’t take care of myself, though.”

Halfway through the title sequence, Stiles dug his fingers through the blanket until they met the warmth of Derek’s hand.

“Stiles,” Derek said in that long-suffering tone he was prone to adopt around people younger than him. Younger than him by like, three years, though.

“Shut up, Derek,” Stiles turned his attention to the screen, where Agent Dale Cooper was speaking into his trusty tape recorder. “Just be happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY FOR NOT FINISHING THIS SOONER  
> it's been on my conscience for so long but i did NaNoWriMo last year and that sucked up most of my fic-writing time. yeah so this is the last one i am not gonna write more im done fuck teen wolf (not actually but honestly after season 2 i don't give a shit about it)  
> /shimmies out humming no scrubs/


End file.
